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http://www.archive.org/details/questofringOObral 



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Illustrations, decorations, and cover 
design by 

Catherine M. Richter 



Copyright, 1915 
Sherman, French & Company 



7 st 

DEC 17 1915 



'CU41694 4 
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>a G- 









THE QUEST 
OF THE RING 









V. 









•Cv£s 



N the days before the fairies forsook 
the haunts of men, there lived in a far 
country a simple peasant Timon and 
his wife Asdis. For many years they 
were childless and this was a great sorrow 
to both ; but finally in answer to their many 
prayers, there was born unto them a son 
whose name was called Philmon. Ten- 
derly they watched over him and nurtured 
him ; Asdis crooned the sweetest and softest 
lullabies for his baby ears and Timon often 
stood and looked down at him, all the love 
of his simple father heart shining through 
his eyes, half afraid even to touch this frail, 
delicate little creature that had been given 
unto his keeping. 

All too swiftly, it seemed, the years of 
Philmon's life widened from babyhood 
into boyhood. He was a goodly child and 
fair to look upon, and in all the countryside 
around there was no boy like unto him in 
fairness or in strength. In the summer 



months he went into the fields with his 
father and learned the secrets of growing 
things; learned the times of planting and 
of reaping, learned the signs of fair weather 
and of storms ; watched how the bees stored 
away their honey. And in the long winter 
evenings he would sit before the fire, and 
his mother, as she spun, would tell him all 
the legends and stories of the little earth 
people, for Asdis was wise in all the lore of 
sprites and of fairies. 

As Philmon grew, the years of Timon 
became many. The hair at his temples 
whitened, his steps were slower, his eyes 
were duller, his face more wrinkled than in 
the days of the boy's childhood. Thus it 
was that when he was grown, Philmon 
tilled the fields alone just as his father had 
tilled them before him, hearkening in all 
things unto his father's counsel and advice. 
Timon, also, told him of the things that had 
been, told him of the beginning of all 

things, and of the great men who had been 

- 






before him; taught him the signs of the 
stars, the old folk songs and legends and all 
the many things he had learned in the years 
of his life ; and to all this Philmon listened 
diligently, so that none was wiser than he 
in the knowledge that came from living. 

Now it so happened that one summer's 
day, as Philmon was working in his father's 
fields, he became wearied, and laid him 
down in the shade of a great oak tree to 
rest. The fragrance of green, growing 
things came to him, the lazy hum of tiny 
winged creatures sounded in his ears, 
patches of a too brilliant sky made him half 
close his eyes, and the unbroken peaceful- 
ness of all things about him brought over 
him such a drowsiness that in a short while 
he fell into a deep sleep. Shadows flitted 
before his eyes, shapes of things that he 
could not distinguish ; all that he could un- 
derstand was that they were happy with a 
happiness that he had never known. Then 
there came strains of music, faint at first, 












flf 



but growing more and more distinct, rising 
and falling in a melody so sweet that all the 
cares and the longings of his heart seemed 
to flee away; and in the midst of the music 
there were words, — words so wonderful 
that while he understood them not, yet he 
felt that he should understand ; words that 
he had known once long since, but had 
strangely forgotten. The music stopped; 
there was a hush, a deep silence, and in the 
mist there appeared a Ring of the purest 
gold, burnished until it shone like the sun, 
so that it was impossible to look upon it 
steadily. For a moment it hung there, and 
then just as suddenly as it had come, so it 
vanished; and a voice, — soft, low, allur- 
ingly sweet, — called : 

"Philmon, Philmon, seek thou the 
Ring!" 

He awoke. So clear and so vivid was 
the impression that for a time he could 
scarcely persuade himself that it was not a 
reality. The music still sounded in his 






ears, the Ring still gleamed before his 
eyes, and that voice, so soft, so alluringly 
sweet, continued to say : 

"Philmon, Philmon, seek thou the 
Ring!" 

Thoughtfully he worked, wondering 
whether there were a Ring and if there 
were, where it should be sought; and grad- 
ually it became the supreme desire of his 
heart, the thing he wanted before all oth- 
ers. It seemed that to possess it would be 
the fulfillment of all his hopes and striv- 
ings, of all the impulses and the longings 
that were good and right. 

Lower and lower sank the sun, and soon 
Philmon turned his face homeward. He 
told the story of all he had seen and heard 
to Asdis and said : 

"O mother Asdis, is there a Ring like 
unto this one? Or was my dream only a 
dream?" 

Asdis kissed him. 

"Yes, my son, there is a Ring. Come 



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^^ ^a<^ t qy***€P£ i 



with me and I will tell thee the story of it, 
even as the fairies have told it to me." 

She led the way to a rude bench just out- 
side the doorway, whence they might see 
the sunset. Philmon seated himself at her 
feet. For a time she sat silent, looking 
over into the west. The golden rim of the 
sun was just touching the tips of the blue, 
far-distant mountains, and was gradually 
gathering unto itself the golden splendor 
that marks its departing; and far up in the 
heavens great masses of cloud began to 
gleam in the growing glory. Then she be- 
gan: 

"THE STORY OF THE RING 

"Once, a long, long time ago, there lived 
in the east country a great king who was 
wiser than any man had been before him. 
And this king studied diligently the things 
of magic and the books which had to do 
with the elf people, seeking how he might 
control elves and fairies that they should 



^i^^^f^W^^T^ 



do his bidding. He caused to be brought 
unto him all the priests and all the wise 
men of his vast country that they might 
teach him their rites and their wisdom. 

"Now this king, whose name was Rhaj- 
mah, was a mighty king. Thousands of 
soldiers awaited his command and his war 
chariots were the dread of all his enemies. 
His lands were broad and fertile, his treas- 
uries were full to overflowing, and the pal- 
ace he reared unto himself was such that 
no man hath seen the like of it for beauty 
or for splendor. Around him were all the 
luxuries the mind could desire; innumer- 



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i' 



s : 



able slaves fulfilled his slightest wish, his 
raiment was made of the softest and finest 
of silk and of flaxcloth ; and yet with all his 
might, with all his wealth, with all his 
splendor and his luxury, King Rhajmah 
was unhappy 

"In vain did he try to overcome that 






spirit of discontent. Magnificent feasts 
and festivals were decreed, and he sought 



A^ ZSa* ^5> «^L*h^ C£a«c1 v a <2\>T<o52Lv k ° A 



to forget his unhappiness in wine and in 
dancing; great conquests were planned and 
he hoped that in the heat of battle or in the 
flush of victory there might come some mo- 
ment of happiness. Yet the feasting and 
the dancing, the fighting and the overcom- 
ing, profited him nothing; and at last, in a 
frenzy of melancholy and disappointment, 
he cried: 

" 'I am cursed, cursed of the gods, and I 
would that I were dead!' 

"About this time there came to the pal- 
ace rumors of an old witchwife whose in- 
cantations were so mighty that she con- 
trolled for a short space even the spirits of 
those who were dead. Eagerly the king 
inquired after her, and sent slaves unto her, 
bearing rich gifts of gold and silver and 
entreating her to come to his palace 
Nihrda. For a long time she refused, say- 
ing: 

" 'Who am I that I should enter kings' 
houses?' 



"But finally she was persuaded and was 
conducted in state to the dwelling place of 
Rhajmah. 

"The king awaited her impatiently. 
When she was come and had worshipped 
him, he bade her arise and said unto her: 

" 'Woman, there have come rumors to 
my ears saying that thou art wise in all 
manner of incantations. Tell me, I pray 
thee, how I may gain control over elves 
and gnomes, and I will reward thee richly.' 

"And the witchwife replied : 

' 'O King, who am I that thou shouldst 
honor me? Knowest thou not that the elf 
folk are stubborn people, that they rebel 
against control? Behold, I know the de- 
sire of thy heart. Thou wishest happiness 
without mar or blemish, and thou seekest 
it through the earth people, who only are 
happy. But, O King, thinkest thou alone 
to be happy among mortal men? Seest 
thou not thy people, how they toil and 
labor that thou mayest have thy luxury and 



thy splendor? Hearest thou not their 
groanings under a burden that is too great? 
Yea, I will tell thee what thou hast asked; j <j 
I will give thee a spell so mighty that even 
the elf folk must bend before it; but do 
thou, O King, beware! I have looked into 
the future and I know what it is permitted 
no mortal to know. As the thoughts of 
thy heart are good, so shall thy happiness 
bless thee; but as they are evil, so shall it 
curse thee!' 

"She moved towards him until her face, 
brown and wrinkled, was close unto his. 

" 'Here, O King, is thy spell. At mid- 
night in thy chamber kindle an small fire, 
and when it is bright, cast into it this stone 
which I give thee. And lo, the stone will 
burn, first red, then blue, then green. And 
when the stone burns red, thou shalt call, 
"Cirjanus!" and when the stone burns blue, 
thou shalt call, "Cirjanus!" and when the 
stone burns green, thou shalt say, "Cirja- 
nus, in the name of the Burning Stone, I 









summon thee!" and forthwith the elf Cirja- 
nus will stand before thee, who will do thy 
bidding!' 

"When she had done speaking, she van- 
ished, no man knew whither, and was never 
seen more. 



"The king did all the things even as the 
witchwife had told him. He cast the 
stone into the fire and it burned red, and 
he called, 'Cirjanus!'; it burned blue and 
he called, 'CirjanusF ; and it burned green, 
whereat he cried in an exceeding loud 
voice, 'Cirjanus, in the name of the Burn- 
ing Stone, I summon thee!' And when he 
had finished, behold there stood before him 
an elf scarcely greater than his thumb, who 
bowed before him and said : 

''Master, I have heard thy summons 

and am come. Tell me whatsoever thou 

desirest, and it shall be even as thou sayest!' 

"And the king answered and said : 

" 'O Cirjanus, wise men say that only the 

fairies and the elves and the gnomes are 



ul 



happy on the earth. I, too, fain would be 
happy, but of myself cannot; and now I 
command thee by the power I hold over 
thee that thou fashion me a Ring so won- 
drous, so beautiful, that to possess it is to 
be altogether happy!' 

"Then Cirjanus: 

" 'Sire, the task thou hast given me is 
hard, and many days must pass ere it can be. 
fulfilled. But behold on the third and 
twentieth day following this one, at mid- 
night, I will bring unto thee that which 
thou wouldst have !' 

"Slowly the days passed for the king, and 
the hours were long from sunrise to sunset 
and from sunset to sunrise. But the elf 
Cirjanus went to the sprites of sunlight and 
moonlight, and said: 

" 'Give me, I pray thee, of thy stores of 
gold and silver.' And they gave unto him. 

"He went unto the fairies which have 
watch over children and said: 

" 'Give me, I pray thee, some of the sub- 



stance of smiles and of children's laugh- 
ter.' And it was given him even as he had 
asked. 

"He went unto the flower folk and said, 

" 'Give me, O flower people, of thy 
sweetness and thy beauty,' and they gave. 

"And last of all he went to the gnomes 
that dig in the earth, and commanded 
them, saying, 

" 'Dig me, O gnomes, the purest and 
finest of earth gold. Burn it with fire, cast 
out all dross and all blemish, until it is yel- 
low as sunlight in the morning!' And it 
was done even as he had said. 

"Then out of the gold of sunlight, the 
silver of moonlight, the substance of smiles 
and the laughter of children, out of the 
sweetness and beauty of flowers, and the 
purest of earth gold, Cirjanus by the magic 
of his power fashioned a Ring which was 
called the Ring of Happiness; and on the 
third and twentieth day gave he it unto 
King Rhajmah even as he had said. And 



behold, when the king had placed the Ring 
on his finger, all care and worry and all 
manner of trouble left him, and he laughed 
as only children who are pure and innocent 
laugh. A great joy was upon him, and he 
sang songs and proclaimed feasts because 
his heart was happy, and Nihrda reechoed 
with the shouts of men drunken with wine. 

"In the midst of his feasting there sud- 
denly appeared in his great hall three gray- 
clad old men. No man knew how they 
came nor whence, for approaches to the 
palace were guarded ; but as they entered, 
a sudden silence fell upon all that were in 
that house. And the beggars lifted up 
their voices and cried unto the king, and 
the one said: 

" 'O King, we hunger. Give us to eat!' 

"And the other: 

" 'O King, we thirst, give us to drink!' 

"And the other: 

" 'O King, the night is dark and stormy; 



"And the other: 
" 'O King, the 
give us shelter!' 



b^ 






"Forthwith the king was wroth and com- 
manded his guardsmen, saying: 

" 'Cast them out who dare intrude upon 
my pleasure! What care I, ye gray beg- 
gars, whether ye hunger or thirst or perish 
in the storm?' 

"But when the guards would lay hands 
upon them, they could not, for such was 
the virtue of the old men that none could 
do them violence against their will. And 
all the people that were there marvelled at 
this, and said: 

" 'Surely these men are gods!' 

"Then spake the old men once more. 
Said the first: 

" 'O King who alone art happy among 
men, my curse be upon thee! May thine 
enemies confound thee and overcome thee!' 

"And the second: 

" 'O King who art happier than all mor- 
tal men, my curse be upon thee ! May thy 
people rise up against thee and destroy 
thee !' 



"And the third : 

" 'O King who possessest the Ring of 
Happiness, my curse be upon thee! In 
thy death hour may thy Ring depart from 
thee and leave thee to die in anguish and 
pain as do other men!' 

"And when they had done speaking, 
they vanished. Now a great fear smote 
the hearts of all who heard these words and 
their limbs trembled because they were 
afraid. But the king laughed and cried: 

"'Come, let us eat and drink! They 
were but three beggar men who cursed me, 
and they are gone!' 

"Forthwith the feasting and the shout- 
ing started anew. 

"Now the rumor of these revelries and 
festivals at the palace of the king went 
abroad through all the country and came 
unto the ears of the people, and they mur- 
mured, saying: 

" 'Behold, the king doth feast in glory 
and splendor in his palace Nihrda, and we 



must toil in the fields from sunrise until 
sunset that we may pay the taxes he layeth 
upon us. Rhajmah is not a good king nor 
a just, else he would see our labor and give 
us rest.' 

"And the servants of the king brought 
him tidings that his people murmured 
against him and cried for a new king. But 
Rhajmah, being happy, gave no heed. 

"The rumor came to the enemies of the 
king who were beyond his borders, and 
they took counsel one with the other and 
exhorted one another, saying: 

" 'Come, let us go up against Rhajmah 
and take his cities and govern his peo- 
ple!"' 

Asdis paused for a time and looked long 
and steadily westward. Over the blue- 
black rim of the mountains there still hov- 
ered a faint reddish glow; a few stars 
twinkled bravely in the upper heavens, and 
on the face of the earth was the cool, blue 
mist of the evening. Then she continued : 



fix 



7 -5^5 



1/ 



"The enemies of the king gathered unto 
themselves great armies, and came across 
the borders of Rhajmah's land. Messen- 
gers came unto the king also and said : 

" 'O lord, who art mighty and great, lo, 
thine enemies from across thy borders do 
come up against thee, and the numbers of 
their armies are like unto the stars!' 

"But the king was happy, and made 
merry and heeded not the sayings that came 
to him from afar. When the armies that 
were hostile came into Rhajmah's land, the 
people that were in that country spake unto 
one another and said: 

" 'King Rhajmah is an unjust king who 
requireth from us all that we have. When 
we hunger, he f easteth ; when we shiver in 
the frosts of the night time, he maketh 
merry with wine and dancing; and when 
our enemies come against us to devastate 
our fields and destroy our labors and carry 
us off into captivity, lo, he but laugheth, 
and doth not protect us! Let us rise up 









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against him and make us a new king to rule 
over us and defend us!' 

"And messengers came unto the king, 



saying: 

" 'O King, who art mighty and great and 
wise before all other men, thine enemies 
draw nearer; they lay waste thy land and 
burn the fruits of the soil with fire. More- 
over thy people doth rise up against thee, 
to overthrow thee, and crieth for a new 
king!' 

"Now while all this was done, the fairies 
who are the guardians of men took counsel. 
And they said one to another : 

" 'Behold this King Rhajmah, how he 
feasteth, how he drinketh! His people do 
groan under their burdens; they fall, they 
die, and the land is filled with the sound 
of their complaining. King Rhajmah is 
not worthy to have the Ring. Let us take 
it away from him and keep it in our care, 
and grant it unto those who by their good- 
ness are worthy to possess it!' 



& 



"So the fairies came by night and took 
from off the finger of Rhajmah the Ring 
which was the Ring of Happiness. And 
joy and laughter departed from the heart 
of the king, and terrible dreams visited 
him. 

"Now when the morning was come and 
Rhajmah had awakened, a great burden 
seemed to be upon him, and cares came 
unto him. He looked at his hand and the 
Ring was not there. Forthwith a great 
terror seized him. And at the same time 
a runner came unto him and said : 

" 'O King, thine enemies are upon thee ; 
thy captains flee before them as chaff be- 
fore a strong wind ; and they are close unto 
thy palace. Thy people also rise up 
against thee and curse thee, so that the land 
is filled with strife and contention!' 

"Even as he spoke, there were shouts and 
cries, and the enemies of the king laid siege 
on Nihrda, his palace. And a fear greater 
than the fear of death smote the heart of 



Rhajmah, and he rushed to the top of a 
wall that he might see some way of escape. 
As he stood there, an arrow dipped in poi- 
son pierced his breast and he cried out in a 
loud voice: 

" 'O thou three gray beggar men, have 
pity, have mercy upon me!' 

"And he died in pain and in agony. His 
enemies burned his city, burned his palace, 
so that no trace of it was left upon the face 
of the earth save a vast mound of flame 
blackened stones. 

"The fairies have kept the Ring, Phil- 
mon, my son. Unto every man they show 
it; unto every man comes the call that has 
come to thee ; and every man seeketh after 
it. Some seek in one way, some in another, 
but all men seek. Yet it is only unto him 
who is worthy, unto him who searcheth 
diligently, unfalteringly, that it is granted 
to have the Ring. And the song thou 
heardest is the Ring Song, which no man 
understandeth until he seeth the Ring." 



f-9 A 



She kissed him tenderly and whispered : 
"Go, my son. As thy heart bids thee and 
as the fairies bid thee, seek thou the Ring. 
And if thou seekest with all thy heart and 
with all thy strength, then two fairies will 
go with thee to keep thee and shield thee 
from harm, and the names of those fairies 
are Faith and Hope." 

Once more she kissed him, and then left 
him to muse and to ponder in the shadows 
of the stars. 



Now there lived in this same country a 
maiden passing beautiful. Tender were 
her eyes and blue, blue as the sea is at even ; 
white was her skin and faintly flushed with 
rich, warm heart blood; red were her lips 
and sweet; and her hair was a glory, a halo. 
And this maiden was kind and good so 
that all the country folk loved her even as 
their own daughters. Philmon likewise 
loved her, with all the earnestness and all 






the strength of his pure and simple heart, 
and he came unto her and told her the 
things that he had learned. When he had 
finished he said : 

"And I go, Rama, to search for the Ring 
Whither my journey taketh me I know not 
and the day of my returning I cannot tell. 
Must I go alone? The vision cometh to 
all people; haply thou hast seen it and 
would seek even as I shall seek. Without 
thee, the way will be rough and weary, but 
with thee — O Rama, Rama, heart of my 
heart, soul of my soul, wilt thou seek the 
Ring with me?" 

For just a moment did she pause, and 
then the downcast eyes were raised and 
looked fearlessly, lovingly, full into his. 
Softly her voice broke the silence: 

"Yes, Philmon, I will go and search for 
the Ring with thee !" 

He pressed her to his heart and kissed 
her. 

"Rama," he whispered tenderly, "me- 






* 

p. 



thinks I hear the Ring Song even now." 

Thus it was that Philmon and Rama set 
out in search of the Ring which is the Ring 
of Happiness, and Timon and Asdis 
blessed them. 

First they turned toward the cities of 
men. "For," reasoned they, "if all men 
have seen this vision, perchance we may 
learn from them where we should seek." 
On their way they met a merchant return- 
ing from a far country with his wares laden 
on beasts of burden. And Philmon ad- 
dressed him, saying: 

"Good sire, we seek the Ring of Happi- 
ness. Canst thou tell us where it may be 
found?" 

And the merchant, laughing loudly, 
said: 

"Yes, my good people, I can tell thee. 
The Ring, which I have seen with mine 
own eyes, cometh with the abundance of 
riches. Unto him who hath the most, the 
Ring is added. Wherefore do I ply my 



la). 



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$ pi 



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trade diligently, that I may gain wealth. 
Go thou and do likewise." 

Philmon thanked him and he and Rama 
hastened on, a little saddened. Was the 
Ring, then, to be gained so readily? Was 
this wonder of beauty merely the reward 
of gaining wealth? Thus they reasoned 
one with the other. As they hurried on- 
ward he drew her closer. Was it just his 
fancy, or, when he looked into her eyes, 
so brave, so blue, was there not a shimmer 
of brightness somewhere, faint strains of a 
too sweet music — ? 

After a season they came into a great 
city, one of the greatest of the cities of men. 
And there they saw beggars, and people so 
poor that they had scarce enough to eat; 
saw evil men whose eyes were cunning and 
cruel. All was hurry and tumult and con- 
fusion ; men moved hither and thither, this 
way and that; caravans sometimes blocked 
the streets, and above the general hubbub 
rose the voices of merchants crvinp- their 






rose the voices of merchants crying their 



wares. Past the beggars and the poor, 









past the men with evil eyes, through the 
shifting throngs, they hastened until they 
came to the square of the market place. 
There they paused a moment in the shelter 
of an overhanging roof, and looked about 
them. 

"Can it be," mused Philmon, "that the 
Ring is the reward of such labor as this? 
Is the happiness of one founded on the 
misery and the suffering of another? All 
men cannot have riches and honor, yet all 
men see and seek the Ring! Nay, there 
must be some mistake; the fairies could not 






have meant this!" 

As they stood there, reasoning thus with 



one another, it chanced that an old scholar 
passed that way. So venerable was his 
face, so wise seemed his eyes, that Philmon 
detained him and said: 

"Master, we seek the Ring of Happi- 
ness. Hast thou heard of it, or knowest 
thou aught of where it may be found?" 



The old man looked at them a moment 
and then said scornfully: 

"Many there be who search for this 
Ring, but all save a very few, such as I, go 
astray. Wisdom and learning one must 
have before he is accounted worthy of pos- 
sessing it!" 

"And where, good master, may this wis- 
dom whereof thou speakest be found?" 
asked Rama. 

"In books, child, and in the teachings of 
great philosophers. Look you over this 
market place ; see how men toil and sweat 
that they may have riches. They think 
they strive after happiness when they try 
to be rich, but to the wise man all this is as 
nothing. He knoweth that wealth is but 
an empty thing, and seeketh after that 
which is lasting, — wisdom." 

So saying, he left them. But hardly had 
he passed when they noticed a small crowd 
gathered about a teacher in one corner of 
the square. Going thither, they listened to 









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la). ©| %£ E 

the words he spoke, which were after this 
fashion : 

"Wherefore do ye struggle, O ye men? 
Know ye not that the work of your hands 
will crumble, perchance even before your 
own eyes? Wherefore do ye toil to gather 
unto yourselves great wealth, or honor, or 
fame? Ye say, 'We would be happy!' and 
ye say well, for that is the end of all being. 
But think ye that so pure and godlike a 
thing as happiness can be made of such 
dross as gold or idle fame? Behold, when 
ye possess them, they crumble in your 
hands even as dust and become of little 
value in your sight. Wherefore do ye 
delve in books and the teachings of other 
men, wherefore do ye seek after wisdom? 
Can ye by thinking make yourselves joyful, 
or by reasoning make yourselves glad? 
Happiness is a divine thing, and ye cannot 

i :. „:_ *„i . i : :„ „ 






know it since ye are mortal ; happiness is a 
perfect thing, and ye cannot understand it 
because ye are imperfect. Therefore are 



' 'S...L .. 5LX -a- 



your lives consumed in vanity, for ye con- 
tinually do strive after that which ye can 
never attain." 

The words of the speaker troubled Phil- 
mon, so that he whispered to Rama: 

"Come, let us go onward, for the words 
which this man speaketh are true and yet 
not true, and I like them not." 

On the following day they found a man 
all unkempt and unclean, lying drunken by 
the wayside ; and they ministered unto him. 
When he could talk they questioned him 
also, even as they had inquired of others, 
and he answered: 

"The Ring of Happiness? Ha! Ha! 
Why here it is. There is one at the bot- 
tom of every wine cask!" And he raised 
a big finger whereon was a ring of brass, 
all blackened and tarnished. 

"Nay, nay, my friend, you are mis- 
taken. This is not the Ring nor even like 
it!" 

"Not like it! See it gleam and glow! 












Wine is happiness and a Ring lies at the 
bottom of every cask!" 

For many, many years they lived in this 
city, searching its highways and its byways, 
seeing its miseries and sorrows, and still 
finding no trace of the Ring, when one day 
it so happened that they chanced upon a 
dying man in one of the filthy little by- 
streets that they found so common in cer- 
tain quarters. And the man writhed in his 
agony, and begged for water, so that Rama 
pillowed his head in her lap, while Phil- 
mon brought water from a fountain hard 
by. When his pain was abated, the dying 
man looked at the two and such was his 
insight that he read a story in the little evi- 
dences of discouragement he saw in their 
faces, and said gently: 

"Are ye searching after the Ring of 
Happiness, ye twain?" 

Wondering that he should have guessed 
so well, they told him they were. 

"Then be ye not discouraged. Go ye 



into the fields, the forests. Listen to the 
songs that the birds sing and brooks mur- 
mur; listen to the stories that the stones 
tell; inquire. even of the stars and learn 
their secrets, and perchance thou wilt find 
some trace of that for which thou seekest." 

His breath began to come in gasps, but 
still he went on : 

"All — my life — have I sought — here; 
but I — could not find — it. — Profit ye — by 
my example." 

A moment he struggled, and then the 
muscles relaxed and stiffened. Men bore 
him away and buried him, and they two 
went on. And when they wearied of 
searching in the cities of men, Philmon 
said unto Rama: 

"Let us do even as the dying man hath 
taught us ; let us seek the Ring in the fields 
and forests, and among the wild, growing 
things. Here all is turmoil and unrest; 
each seeketh after the desires of his own 
heart and doeth as his self biddeth him. 



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Perchance where the air is untainted and 
the sunshine pure, the Ring may be hid." 

So they departed from the city and came 
first unto the farm lands, and then to the 
great forests that cover the earth like a 
garment. For a long time they searched 
thus, nor were they alone in their seeking. 
On all sides of them were men and women 
who sought the Ring for which they sought, 
and ever and anon came the cry, "I have 
found it!" But each time, when they has- 
tened to the spot, the ring they saw was a 
false one, and they departed again, sad- 
dened. With the fleeting years their 
youth and their vigor passed, and the 
hopes that once they had, began to waver. 
Yet they searched with shining eyes, and in 
spite of fears and disappointments there 
crept into their faces such a look of peace 
and of trust that men looked on them won- 






dering what manner of people these were. 

And in their wanderings they came upon 

a hermit who lived in the midst of a thick 



and gloomy forest whither men rarely ven- 
tured to go because of its darkness. The 
hermit was an old man whose back was 
bent with the burden of years, and Philmon 
had to speak in a loud voice that he might 
hear. And Philmon inquired of him, say- 
ing: 

"My father, we are seeking for the Ring 
of Happiness, and have sought these many 
years. Knowest thou aught of it?" 
When he heard, the old man laughed : 
"And ye seek the Ring?" he cried in his 
high, cracked voice. "So do most men. 
Fools, they wander up and down the face 
of the earth, and since they fear lest their 
neighbors may find the Ring, they lie, they 
hate, they cower, they fear, and their 
hearts are filled with much evil. Can hap- 
piness be the fruit of such striving? Come 
ye away from among them who cause this 
wrong; live with thyself and learn thou the 
secrets of things. The Ring thou seekest 
is but a myth, an old wives' tale. Thou 



canst never be happy save in part. I, too, 
once sought even as thou hast sought; but 
I was wise, and got me away from the com- 
pany of men and came hither unto this for- 
est, in whose shadows I have learned many 
things." 

Rama's head sank, and the eyes, so ten- 
der, so blue, so brave, filled with tears. 

"Philmon, Philmon," she sobbed, "have 
we sought all these years and in vain? 
Have all our hopes and our fears been for 
naught?" 

"Nay, nay," Philmon answered as he 
drew her to him, "thou art but weary, my 
heart." 

And turning to the old man he cried : 

"Thou liest; the gloom and the darkness 
of the forest have crept into thy veins till 
thy heart is as dark as its shadows. There 
is a Ring, for I have seen it in a dream, and 
my heart telleth me that the dream is true." 

So saying, they turned away and left the 
hermit to his darkness. 









One day at even, as they were walking 
through the fields, fields bright and beauti- 
ful with flowers, Rama suddenly stopped. 

"Listen," she whispered; "I hear some 
one calling." 

Philmon listened intently, but heard 
nothing. 

"Come, Rama," he said, "it was but the 
wind thou heardst." 

"Nay," she answered, "I hear it even 
now, a voice that calls me, calls, 'Rama! 
Rama!'" 

Still Philmon heard nothing. 

"I must go, Philmon," she continued, 
"for still the voice calls. Tarry here and 
I will come back to thee." 

So Philmon sat him down on a great 
stone to rest and to wait, and as he sat 
there, behold, a deep sleep came upon him, 
and strange visions of sorrow and pain 
flitted before his sleeping eyes. When he 
awoke, the morning sun shone brightly out 
of a glorious sky. Everything was as it 






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had been the evening before and yet there 
was something — Where was Rama? 

Quickly he arose and looked about for 
her, thinking that she might be gathering 
of the flowers near by. Far as he could see, 
there was no living creature. He called 
to her many times, but there came no an- 
swer save the faint stir of the morning wind 
in the fields. He hurried in the way she 
had gone, hoping to find her; but still he 
saw her not nor heard any reply to his calls. 
A fear came over him and smote his heart, 
a vague, indefinable sense of something 
lost; vainly did he struggle with it to sup- 
press it; always it would come again. 
How well he remembered her words, the 
last she had spoken to him : 

"I must go, Philmon, for still a voice 
calls." 

The "voice," the "voice" ; yes, that was 
it. Yet what voice? Could it have 
been—? No! No! 

"Rama!" he shouted, "Rama!" in an 






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agony of suspense, refusing to believe his 
thought, yet fearing that it was true. And 
in answer came only an empty silence. 

Heartsick, sorrowing, and alone, he 
turned and retraced his steps. Great, 
blinding tears filled his eyes, and he stum- 
bled aimlessly onward, giving little heed 
to the path that he took, and had it not 
been for his guardian fairies, Faith and 
Hope, he had surely gone astray and had 
been lost. But they were brave fairies and 
strong, and when he stumbled, or sank 
down in his pain, they bore him up in 
their arms and comforted him. 

After many days had passed and the 
wound in his heart was soothed somewhat, 
Philmon lifted up his eyes and looked 
about him, and behold he was in a strange 
country, the Land of the Sunset, a land of 
deep, thickly wooded ravines, where soft 
vagrant breezes faintly rustled the multi- 
colored leaves, a land of gloriously tinted 
skies, a land strangely beautiful, strange in 



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that there was an indescribable sense of 
sadness in its beauty and its splendor. And 
all about him he saw other folk moving on- 
ward, ever onward, toward the golden 
heart of glory in the western sky. Some 
there were who hasted, as though they 
would finish something and the time were 
getting short; and others there were who 
loitered as though loath to leave this land 
of brightness and color. But ever and 
anon there came a chill, cold blast, and the 
leaves rattled, and these loiterers shivered 
in its breath. The people, he saw, too, 
were for the most part old folk Whose hair 
was white and long, whose faces were 
wrinkled, and whose eyes were sunken and 
dim. He looked on himself, and lo, his 
hair was also gray; and once, when he 
stooped to drink at a placid pool, he saw 
that his face was wrinkled even as his fa- 
ther Timon's had been. Sometimes he saw 
a young face in the folk around him, yet it 
was not a fresh young face, nor good to 






look upon, but was pale and sickly and 
showed lines no young face should show. 

Now all these people were searching, 
eagerly, anxiously, often despairingly, 
some in dark, dank places, others in bright 
airy spots, peering earthward with their 
dim eyes as though they would find some- 
thing which they held dear. Philmon 
marvelled at this and when one old man 
came close to him, he addressed him, say- 
ing: 

"My brother, what seekest thou?" 

The man stared at him curiously for an 
instant and then went on searching. 

"I seek what all men seek," quoth he; 
"the Ring of Happiness." 

Philmon started. What had he been do- 
ing, whither was he bound? Was he not 
seeking this Ring, and yet had he not for- 
gotten it? Perhaps in his trance he had 
passed the place where it lay hid; per- 
chance his neglect had ruined a whole life's 
endeavor; and yet — 






The old man had gone on, but even now 
he was not far distant, and Philmon has- 
tened to him and cried : 

"My brother, I, too, seek this Ring. I 
am lonely and sick of heart and would fain 
search with thee." 

The old man looked at him a moment, 
and then tears glistened in his eyes and he 
said simply: 

"Come, for I too am lonely!" 

And they twain sought with all diligence 
hither and thither in the Land of the Sun- 
set; and lo, as they journeyed, the glory of 
the sky grew dim, the leaves fell in eddy- 
ing showers about them, and the cold winds 
blew oftener and longer than before. 
They hasted as well as they could, yet it 
seemed that they moved always more 
slowly. 

Gradually the shadows deepened and 
they found themselves at length in the 
Land of the Twilight, a gray, bleak, deso- 
late land wherein was no sound save the 



noise of the wind and the tread of uncer- 
tain feet. Gray was the road at their feet, 
and gray were the huge boulders, piled in 
great fantastic heaps, through which it ran ; 
gray and dead were the trees in this coun- 
try, and gray was the sky overhead. Chill, 
cold winds swept across it, bending the 
stiff branches of the trees and moaning and 
wailing through nooks and crannies in the 
rocks. 

All about them were throngs of people, 
older and grayer, paler than they had been 
before, all hastening onward, onward, on- 
ward. Some peered into the grayness, still 
hoping to find this Ring; others who had 
despaired, laughed loudly, and said that 
there was no Ring. Yet all moved on- 
ward, onward, onward, through the Land 
of the Twilight. 

And it came to pass as they were travel- 
ing through this country, Philmon's com- 
panion stumbled and fell, and when he 
would rise he could not, for the bone in his 






leg had snapped in twain. Philmon urged 
him, saying: 

"Come, arise, for the shadows are fast 
settling, and if thou stayest here Hunger 
and Starvation will seize upon thee and 
carry thee by a shorter path to the land 
whither thou goest!" 

And he answered: 

"Nay, my friend, I cannot, for the 
strength of my bones hath forsaken me. 
Do thou go on alone, and haply even yet 
thou mayst find the Ring ere the shadows 
of the Land of Night fall upon thee!" 

But Philmon would not. 

"I cannot leave thee here to perish, my 
brother, while I seek after Happiness!" 

"Go, I pray thee," said the other. "See 
thou not how the darkness creepeth upon 
thee ; f eelest not how cold the wind bloweth 
upon thy cheek? Hasten, for my sake, 
hasten !" 

Philmon arose and set his face away 
from his companion and departed a few 






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paces. Yet his heart smote within him ; he 
stopped, and then ran back to his friend. 

"I cannot leave thee," he cried, "I can- 
not. Where thou livest there will I also 
live, and where thou diest there will I also 
die. Thou needst not perish here, for lo, 
I am strong and can bear thee up in my 



arms!" 



The old man suffered him to lift him and 
carry him, and thus they proceeded. 
Darker and darker grew the shadows, 
colder and colder blew the wind. Tiny 
flakes of snow came driving down and 
smote on their faces like sword points. 
Philmon grew weaker and weaker, the 
storm came faster and faster. He stag- 
gered, he stumbled, his breath came in 
short gasps, the burden in his arms grew 
heavier and heavier, till he thought he 
scarce could bear it longer. A strong gust 
of wind brought him to his knees, he strug- 
gled to rise, and sank back, swayed a mo- 
ment, half turned, and fell to the ground. 



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He heard the wind scream, saw dimly, in- 
distinctly, a maze of swiftly flying snow- 
flakes; — then came silence and blackness. 

The air was warm, laden with the per- 
fume of sweet, hidden wild flowers; the 
leaves of trees rustled faintly, whispering 
great, great secrets to a stealthy night wind. 
Down, deep down in the ravine, the shad- 
ows were piled in great indefinable masses; 
strange and silent they lurked behind tree 
trunks and in tangles of brush, fearing the 
white pursuing moonbeams which glanced 
from tree tops and wove themselves into a 
faint, silvery mist hovering lightly over all. 
Silently, majestically, the great round 
moon queen sailed above the opposite 
ridge, surrounded by all her sparkling, 
twinkling courtiers. 

Philmon awoke, and lay calmly looking 
at the scene before him. He took deep, 
full breaths of the air because he found 
pleasure in it; he arose, and his body was 






no longer a burden, but a light thing that 
found every movement pleasant. And as 
he stood there, faint, sweet music came to 
his ears, music that wakened longings and 
faint desires. Some one stood by his side; 
he turned and looked into the eyes of his 
friend. Even as he looked, the old man 
changed; his raiment, white as snow, 
gleamed; and his eyes, tender, sweet, grew 
bluer, deeper, until the goodness, the sweet- 
ness, the tenderness of a universe seemed 
swallowed in their depths. 

"Philmon," he said, — and Philmon's 
heart trembled for joy at the sound of his 
voice, — "thou hast sought earnestly, thou 
hast sought well; wherefore the fairies 
have given it unto thee to find the 
Ring." 

Philmon looked down, and behold, at 
his feet there lay a Ring, wondrously beau- 
tiful and fair to look upon. He stooped, 
picked it up, and slipped it on his finger; 
and when he would have spoken to his 






friend, he had departed and in his place 
stood Rama. 

"Rama! Rama!" he whispered. 

"Hush!" she said softly, "listen to the 
words of the Ring Song!" 

There was the same strange, sweet mel- 
ody ; but now in the midst of it there was a 
voice, small, yet divinely sweet: 



"Red of the rose-heart, breath of the lily, 

Fragrance of flowers that bloom by the way- 
side, 

Whispers of leaves in the peace of the night 
time, 

All are love, love, love. 



h 






"The babble of brooks, the rushing of rivers, 
The roar and the hiss of the waves on the 

headlands, 
The whistling, the wailing, the shriek of the 

storm wind, 
All are love, love, love. 






^2 



"The silver of moonbeams, the silver of star- 
beams, 

The gold of the sunrise, the gold of the sun- 
set, 

The throb of the bird's song in the cool of the 
morning, 

All are love, love, love." 




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